Cured
by Aurelia Faiza
Summary: "People hurt; she had taught him that." Months after their relationship has disintegrated, Kazuo and Hirono still try to be there for one another. Follow up to Infected.


They could remain in companionable silence for hours at a time, only occasionally disturbing the peace with a begrudging "Nice one", a smug "Thank you kindly", or a frustrated "Fuck you, man".

Hirono favoured the last one.

_'Shit,'_ she hissed, burying her head in her hands as she found her king unexpectedly surrounded. 'Fuck you, man, this game was _mine_.'

Kazuo's immaculately maintained pokerface slipped, and he smirked. 'Checkmate, Shimizu.'

'God damnit. _Again.'_

'Does that make it a dozen straight victories for me?' he asked mockingly. She scowled.

'You know fine well it is, you ass.' She made a show of knocking over her king in surrender. 'It's not that I don't appreciate the challenge. It'd just be nice to feel like I'm getting somewhere.'

'Don't be too hard on yourself. You are improving.'

She quirked her pretty lips into a wry grin and cocked her head to the side. 'Don't patronise me, babe.'

He mirrored her expression exactly, emptily. 'Wouldn't dream of it, dear.'

She stood and stretched, glancing at the clock as she stifled a yawn. Quarter to twelve. Time for one more game.

'Drink?'

'Please,' said Kazuo, already beginning to reset the board. Hirono caught sight of her reflection in the window as she passed it, and let out an impatient huff. Kazuo looked up.

'Is something the matter?' he asked. She turned to face him, unimpressed.

'You didn't tell me about these magnificent panda eyes of mine,' she reproved mildly, pulling a makeup wipe from its pack next to her bed. 'How long have I looked like this?'

'Several hours.'

'Coulda told me, champ.' She scrubbed her face clean.

Kazuo shrugged. 'It didn't seem important.'

She wiped a final smudge from her cheek. There was a time when she wouldn't have dreamed of going without makeup in the presence of another human being, but now, even in the presence of _this_ particular human being, she realised that, as he'd said, it really wasn't that important.

'No,' she said. 'I imagine it didn't.'

She pulled another bottle of bourbon from under her bed and stroked it fondly.

_'Hello, darkness, my old friend,'_ she sang softly, handing it to Kazuo for him to pour while she picked up the old, empty bottle from where it rested on the floor next to his chair. She hid it to deal with another time.

Not that her folks were the kind to lose their shit over a spot of underage drinking. They were too busy pretending to still be cool to bother with that. They would, however, have wanted to know where she was getting it from, or at least suspect that she was taking from the liquor cabinet they thought she didn't know about. Her parents themselves drank so rarely, preferring to stick to their pretentious and obscure fruit cordials, that Hirono could have emptied their supplies and they'd likely never notice until she left home.

For the moment, there were still a few bottles of whiskey, a couple of expensive vodkas, a specially imported European red wine and a particularly impressive, oak aged port that Kazuo had verbally coveted for a special occasion. Once they were gone she'd have to start stealing from shops again.

They clinked their glasses.

'Cheers,' said Hirono. Together, they drank. She set down her glass and was rummaging around in her pockets for a coin to toss to decide the order when Kazuo cleared his throat.

'I have something to announce,' he said unnecessarily. Hirono raised an eyebrow.

They had stopped sleeping together several months previously, and she was surprised in the first instance that he expressed an interest in remaining friends. Given that they had never been friends at all, she was then hurt and cynical that Kazuo Kiriyama - the immovable Ice Man, Kazuo Kiriyama - would insult her with a teenage breakup strategy as old as time itself. She had no need for _"let's be friends"._ In her experience, friends tended to be the first to go. Any kind of relationship to her was grounded in mutual benefit - what was the good of a friend if they weren't getting something out of it too?

Kazuo had been different because she thought he was in the same boat. If he wasn't fucking her, he would have no incentive to stay. Though she'd never admit it, when he ended it with her the second time, she had hurt so much that she felt her body would snap in two, exposing her aching, abused heart for all the world to see.

And yet, just days afterwards, when Kazuo approached her with a seemingly sincere request to share her platonic company, she accepted. When she asked herself why, she thought that, perhaps, she just needed someone. Anyone. Preferably him.

It was awkward at first, though when she asked him about it he admitted that he wasn't aware of it - and though he didn't elaborate, she guessed that he simply didn't register the stilted conversations or the heaviness of the long silences that other people like her struggled with. After that, it was less awkward. They would watch films together, commenting snidely on anything from sub-par acting to unattractive extras. They discovered a shared appreciation of similar music, and Hirono's desk was cluttered with various LPs that she had either bought or borrowed on Kazuo's recommendation. The chess came a bit later; after a throwaway comment about never having played, Hirono took it upon herself to teach him.

She supposed it made sense, that he should have surpassed her in skill almost immediately, but she didn't have it in her to be annoyed. That was just Kazuo. She would never have liked him if he'd been what she expected.

It still stung, sometimes, that she no longer had him the way she wanted - but then, sometimes she wondered if she ever had him at all. It was better, this way. That was what she told herself the first time she caught a glimpse of the marks on his collarbone, hidden by his shirt except for where he stretched gracefully as he yawned late one night; they were both better off in the arms of other people. That she hadn't climbed into bed with anyone other than him since the start of what they had, was beside the point. He was happy with someone else, and she was happy for him. That was what she told herself, and sometimes, she even believed it.

She didn't mention the lovebites, and neither did he. But now he was bringing _something_ up, and she would have been surprised if it had nothing to do with them.

She nodded expectantly, and tried not to be bitter. 'Announce away.'

He cleared his throat, swallowed, and cleared his throat again. If she didn't know better, she'd have thought that he was uncomfortable. She waited.

'I wanted you to be the first to know,' he began. 'I have, for some time, been in mutual acquiesce with another person.'

'Right,' she nodded. 'You're getting laid, you mean?'

'You know him.'

_'Hi-'_ She clamped her mouth shut and blinked twice. 'Oh, wow.'

He arched an eyebrow, amused. '"Wow"?'

She forced a nonchalant shrug. 'Nothing. Just surprised. Didn't imagine you leaning that way.' She lifted her glass, suddenly needing a drink, but stopped just before it reached her lips. 'But then,' she added, 'I guess you lean any way you want to lean.' She drank. 'It's cool. Carry on.'

Kazuo hesitated.

He knew how she felt. Or, at least, he had taken an educated guess, based on the moments of quiet and restrained hurt he sometimes saw in her face when she thought he wasn't looking. It did not sit right with him, that it was his fault - and though it still irked him that he should care, he _did_ care, and he had a clear idea of what she wanted, what would make her happy. But he wouldn't. Or perhaps he couldn't, he wasn't sure.

Had he been as detached from social norms as he was a year previously, he would have perhaps suggested a _ménage à trois_ arrangement - in theory, a reasonable compromise, surely to satisfy the needs of everyone involved. However, now he figured that neither she nor he would be pleased if he were to propose the idea to them, and he was glad that he had not mentioned it.

He took a deep breath. 'It's Nanahara.'

She raised her eyebrows. 'Oh, wow,' she said, again. He nodded.

'Indeed.'

'Shu? That one?'

'Do you know of any others?' he asked with a small smile. She shook her head.

'I'm just surprised you didn't keep it in the family, if you know what I mean.'

He gave her a withering look. 'Are you referring to Tsukioka?'

'Unfortunately, yes.' She laughed shortly. 'I don't know if anyone leans _that_ way.'

Kazuo watched her carefully. She was making a concerted effort these days to be less of a bitch, but he noticed that she slipped back into old habits when she was agitated. He did not want her to be upset.

She poured herself another drink and offered him the bottle.

'So what exactly is the nature of this-' She tried to remember his wording. _'-mutual acquiesce_ with Nanahara?'

'Mainly physical,' he answered immediately, 'but increasingly coupled with something intangible and greater.'

She closed her eyes. 'Do you actually mean to say that you're fucking Shuya Nanahara?'

He sighed. 'Yes, but with a side order of emotional affection.' He shifted, but didn't elaborate.

With her mind addled by a sour mix of whiskey and envy, it took longer than it otherwise would have done for her to realise exactly what he was saying - but the penny dropped, and her eyes widened.

'You're _dating_ Nanahara?'

Kazuo considered it silently. 'In a manner of speaking,' he said eventually.

'You-' She coughed, and tried again. 'You like him?'

'I do,' he said simply. 'Don't tell him,' he added.

'Wow.'

'You do seem to be saying that a lot.'

'Well, it's sort of a big deal.'

'It is?' he said with mild surprise.

'Not to me, personally,' she lied, 'but yeah, it is.' She went to take another drink, but found her glass empty. He refilled it for her, and she took a hefty sip. 'You're sure you mean it? That you like him?'

He straightened his back. 'Do you doubt that I should?'

'Honestly?'

'Honestly.'

'Yeah, I do.' She took another drink, and shrugged. 'Sorry. It's just that, y'know, you're _you_.'

Kazuo bowed his head. Even he could not be oblivious to the underlying accusation in her words. Though she'd never verbalised how she felt, angry or upset or otherwise, he wasn't an idiot. People hurt; she had taught him that.

'I did not treat you the way you deserve,' he said, and she wasn't sure if the remorse in his voice was sincere, but she took it as a good sign that he acknowledged where he had done her wrong. In her heart, she had forgiven him months ago; it was still appreciated that he then looked her in the eye and apologised for it all. She smiled and nodded, and took another drink.

'Just don't do it to him,' she said eventually. 'Promise me that. Just don't be a dick, this time.'

Kazuo sighed. 'I am trying,' he said lowly.

'I mean it. Use that objective brilliance of yours, and do right by him.'

'It...' He broke off, frustrated. 'It is not that simple,' he muttered. 'Nanahara operates on a different wavelength to myself.'

She shot him a pitying look. 'That's a poor excuse, and you know it.'

'I resent that accusation.'

'You don't deny it.'

His gaze slid down to the dregs of whiskey at the bottom of his glass to avoid her reproachful eyes. 'Tell me how,' he said quietly. 'Tell me how to do right by him.'

She considered his question. 'How long have you been together, now?'

He looked up, frowning. 'How do you mean?'

'I mean,' she said patiently, 'when did you decide that he was yours?' _When did you replace me with him?_ flitted through her brain, but wasn't released by her loosened tongue.

Kazuo stared blankly. 'I decided that he was mine when I deduced his attraction to me.'

'And when was that?' Her heart stretched.

'Almost a year ago.'

She hid her wince. _I really was nothing to you,_ she thought bitterly, before catching herself.

Stop. _You forgave him. Let it go._

She took a moment to sweep her invasive thoughts under a heavy rug in her mind.

'So when did you come together?'

'A little over four months ago.'

An image of Kazuo and Nanahara together in the capacity in which _she_ used to be with Kazuo flashed to the forefront of her mind, and while she shooed the image away, she considered Nanahara. Good looking. Bright. Charming. Open, honest. Full of emotions. At once, he was Kazuo's antithesis and his mirror image. She could see them being good together, and vowed to not resent them for what they'd found.

She shook her head clear.

'Four months?'

He nodded.

'You've made it this far,' she said simply. 'Just remember to remember his feelings. You don't have to understand them,' she added, just as he opened his mouth to undoubtedly protest, 'just remember that he has them. Don't make him feel small. Tell him every now and then how great he is. Try and mean it.'

He almost prickled. 'I _do_ mean it.'

She smiled. 'It sounds like you're doing fine, sweet.' She watched him for a moment, his features softened and his posture relaxed, and she was oddly proud of him. 'You've changed, y'know,' she said. 'For the better.'

'I hope so.'

'By the way.'

'Yes?'

'Don't cheat on him.'

He was taken aback by her abrupt change in tone. 'I will not,' he said, and the urge to tell her that she was overstepping the mark was strong, but he resisted. She was, after all, just looking out for them.

She narrowed her eyes. 'Promise me.'

He didn't question it. 'I promise, that for as long as our association continues, I will remain faithful to Shuya Nanahara.'

She visibly relaxed. Kazuo liked it when they drank together; he was relatively unaffected, while she became much easier to read. It was a satisfying insight into her satisfying mind, when she was drunk.

Hirono smiled, and in the clinical light of her tableside lamp that shone down onto them both, she was dangerously pretty.

'Thanks for telling me,' she said ambiguously.

Kazuo didn't know how to answer. "You're welcome" didn't seem appropriate, somehow. He shifted in his seat and gave a slight nod.

'We are going to - what is the expression?'

She shrugged.

'Where we announce publicly that we are emotionally involved?'

'Oh - come out?'

'That's it.'

'Oof. Good luck.'

'Thank you. I rather suspect that we will need it.'

'Suspect away, you're definitely gonna need it.'

'I appreciate your confidence.'

She snorted. 'Nah, you'll be fine. No one in their right mind would confront you.'

'True,' he conceded, 'though I remain concerned for his safety and wellbeing.' She gave him a look. 'What?' he asked defensively.

'If someone hurt him, what would you do?' she asked.

His expression immediately darkened, and a chill ran down her spine. She held up her hand just as he opened his mouth.

'You don't need to say. I can guess. And so can everyone else. Doing anything to him is just as much of a death wish as doing it to you.' She paused. 'Probably worse, actually. No one's that stupid.'

He mulled over her words. 'The worry is still there,' he said eventually.

'That means you care.' She emptied her glass. 'That's a strength. Makes you stronger, faster, angrier, happier, meaner, kinder - generally just better, y'know.' She frowned. 'So don't let go of that feeling, because you'll struggle to fill the hole it leaves behind. Even you. Especially you, probably.'

He bowed his head.

_She has forgiven me,_ he reminded himself, though it did little to appease the guilt that gnawed at his newly-awakened conscience.

She raised her empty glass before he could wallow too much. 'To the two of you,' she said, and for the second time, clinked her glass against his. 'Kiriyama and Nanahara. Who'd have thunk it?'

Kazuo stretched his lips over his teeth. 'Who indeed?'

She glanced at him with a little smirk. 'He played well, the other night. Was that really his first time?'

He blinked and lowered his glass. 'You were there?'

'Uh huh,' she nodded. 'Chigusa invited me.'

'Oh, yes.' He twisted his head to the side, and his stiff neck made a satisfying crack. 'I did not realise you were willingly sharing one another's company.'

'Yeah, for quite a while now. She's cool. Throws a mean left hook. I like that in a girl.'

It went unsaid, but Kazuo guessed that Hirono was grateful for another friend, having been effectively dropped by Mitsuko in the wake of her post-Kazuo depression. Another cause for the uncomfortable, prickling guilt that lingered in the pit of his stomach - that he should have been the catalyst for her having to lose the one who provided her with her livelihood, protection and status - but she never made out that she blamed him. If anything, she seemed almost relieved to be released from the Souma stronghold. (Her words, not his.)

He pushed more guilt aside, and nodded. 'Good. I am glad.' He refilled his glass. 'I, too, thought he played well,' he said, and as he recalled that night, Nanahara's first time in the spotlight, a gentle warmth blossomed in his chest and left no room for lingering remorse. The warmth, which Nanahara smugly called "pride" when Kazuo described it to him, was as new and unfamiliar as the increasing desire for something real and - dare he think it - _meaningful_ to punctuate the bland, distasteful nature of his current life. Nanahara was one. Shimizu was another. When he felt up to finding the right words, he would perhaps tell them. Perhaps they would appreciate confirmation of how welcome they were to him. People seemed to like that sort of thing.

She nodded. 'He's got talent. You got lucky with that one, Kiriyama.'

'I did.'

'For what it's worth, I'm happy for you,' she said, with some effort.

He met her gaze quietly. Unspoken words and gestures danced behind her eyes, and while a lot of it must have passed over Kazuo's head, he nodded.

'Thank you,' he said quietly.

Silence stretched between them. Hirono broke eye contact and looked down at the board, as if surprised to find it was still there.

'We're supposed to be playing,' she said lightly.

Kazuo gave her a small smile. (She liked how much more often he was doing that, and in the light of recent discoveries, attributed it to Nanahara's influence. Had she asked, Kazuo would have told her not to read too much into meaningless gestures, while privately acknowledging that _her_ influence was significant also. But she didn't ask, and he didn't answer.)

'Then play.'

She moved her first piece. Within four minutes, half of her pieces had been taken out. She _harumphed_ in frustration.

'My pride is fucking shot. Remind me to make friends with an idiot next time.'

'You are welcome to borrow Mitsuru any time you wish, Shimizu.'

'I said _idiot_, not _subhuman_.'

Kazuo made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snigger.

'Touché.'

While she despaired over her next move, Kazuo stood, reached into his back pocket, and pulled out a neatly folded piece of lined paper. Hirono looked up at him.

'What's up?'

In response, he dropped the paper onto the table in front of her.

'For you,' he said, seating himself comfortably.

She glanced between the paper and him, but said nothing. He sighed.

'It's nothing scary. I promise.'

Shooting him an apprehensive look, she took it in her hands and unfolded it gingerly. Her eyes roved the page blankly for a moment before she frowned.

'This is a list of names,' she said, baffled.

He nodded.

'People who, if you were to proposition them in a sexual capacity, would say yes.'

Hirono snorted. 'How'd you figure?'

He tilted his head to the side. 'Psychology,' he said simply. 'Signs and indications of irrefutable attraction.'

She blinked. 'What?'

_'You_ know.' He came around the table and knelt on the floor next to her, and gestured to the names on the paper. 'All of these people demonstrate textbook reactions to physical attraction.'

'To me?'

'Yes.'

She touched her lips and read the list again.

'You're honestly telling me that all these people want in my panties?'

His eyes flicked up to the ceiling. 'Yes.'

She wrinkled her nose. 'Toshinori Oda? _Really?'_

He shrugged. 'You're under no obligation to do anything with this information. I just thought you might like to know.'

She rested her head against his, and he didn't move away. 'You're a funny one, Kiriyama.'

'Correct.'

She smiled, and looked again. 'Some of these have a star next to them,' she noted.

'Oh, yes - those who have a romantic interest in you, as well as physical. If you wanted something more-' He paused, and she looked at him sideways as he pondered his choice of words.

'Something more?' she prompted.

'Meaningful,' he finished.

She read. 'I don't even know half of these. Wait, here's some - Ijima - no - Kuronaga... Sasagawa... You need to reign in your family, babe.'

He smirked. 'They will not be a problem for you.'

'Niida - hell no - Numai, another one of yours - I've gotta say, so far I'm not overwhelmed by the selection.'

'Keep reading.'

'Ka-' She broke off, raising both eyebrows. _'Kawada?_ Really?' She looked again. _'And_ he's got an asterix! Incredible.'

'Quite.'

'Tanizawa? The volleyball girl?'

'Yes.'

'No asterix.'

'No.'

'Fair play,' she said idly. 'She's pretty enough, I guess.'

'Uh-huh.'

Hirono perused the page for a few moments longer, then folded it back up and slipped it into her bra with a chuckle. She turned and nudged his head with hers gently. 'Thank you. It's nice to know not everyone hates me.'

He met her gaze with soft eyes, and unexpectedly kissed her cheek. 'You're welcome,' he said and stood, returning to his seat. Hirono missed him already, but reminded himself that he was not hers to miss. She considered Shogo Kawada: gruff, foulmouthed, and handsome in a begrudging sort of way, and she reminded herself to say hello the next time she saw him.

Kazuo watched her eyes unfocus and wondered if she was considering her options. She wouldn't remain hung up on him forever, he hoped. No, knew. She was better than that, and he wasn't worth the effort.

He cleared his throat, and she blinked back into reality. He gestured to the board.

'Your turn,' he said.

She moved a bishop, and within a minute was stuck in another checkmate.

'Well, fuck me,' she muttered, rubbing her forehead.

'You'll have to let me ask my other half.'

Hirono looked up, her face expressionless.

'A joke,' he explained.

'I guessed,' she said, with a wry grin. 'It's just a bit soon.'

'Ah.' He grimaced. 'Sorry.'

'Yeah, yeah. Hurry up and win.'

He did. And in a way, he always would.

* * *

This is dedicated to those who felt that Infected was unfinished. I think it was, too, and I hope this ties up some loose ends. You are all so wonderful, thank you for sticking with me. I very much hope you enjoyed reading this, please let me know what you think! Have a good day!


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